


Coping

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: SpaMano Oneshots [21]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Human, Inspired by a Movie, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7319287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Antonio is doing well," Dr. Bondevik said, flicking through paperwork slowly. "Give him another eight months, and he might actually be adjusted."</p><p>Gilbert had his hands on his hips, and his chest was puffed forward. "Yeah, well, he can do equally as fine with me."</p><p>"The court—"</p><p>"I'm his lawyer, aren't I? He's served his eight months, he's fine, isn't he? He'll take his meds, he'll go to therapy, he'll do crazy, one-armed pushups. He's coming home."</p><p>Dr. Bondevik was still looking through paperwork. "Fine."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rikway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikway/gifts).



> **This is an AU based off the movie "Silver Linings Playbook."**
> 
>  
> 
> **It should have, like, four chapters, ish?**

Ten.

Antonio put his left hand behind his back.

One.

Two.

"Holy fuck!"

Antonio looked up. Gilbert crossed his arms and grinned.

"You're fucking jacked. Is this place like prison for crazy people?"

Antonio hopped up and pulled Gilbert into a hug. "Gilbert! What are you doing here? You look so tired, was the drive bad?" He gave Gilbert another hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm fucking breaking you out of this place, that's what."

* * *

"Antonio is doing well," Dr. Bondevik said, flicking through paperwork slowly. "Give him another eight months, and he might actually be adjusted."

Gilbert had his hands on his hips, and his chest was puffed forward. "Yeah, well, he can do equally as fine with me."

"The court—"

"I'm his lawyer, aren't I? He's served his eight months, he's fine, isn't he? He'll take his meds, he'll go to therapy, he'll do crazy, one-armed pushups. He's coming home."

Dr. Bondevik was still looking through paperwork. "Fine."

* * *

Francis was reading, television on. The football game was on, Germany against Ireland, but Francis didn't look up, even when Germany scored.

"I kept it on, but Ireland is still up by one, Gilbert."

Gilbert threw Antonio's bag down and vaulted over the back of the couch. "That's because  _I_  wasn't watching it, Francis. I figured you might help, but what— _oh, come on_!"

Francis glanced up, met Antonio's eyes. His face twisted strange; first he frowned, then he smiled. "Antonio, what are you doing here?"

Gilbert waved a lazy hand. "He's here now."

Antonio smiled. "Gilbert said I only had to stay in the hospital for eight months. He said I could live with you, because it's too cramped with him and Feliciano and Ludwig."

Gilbert bit his nail, eyes glued to the television screen. "As long as you take your meds and go to therapy."

Francis shut his book. "And respect the restraining order."

Antonio shrugged. "I'm working on the restraining."

Francis shook his head. "No, Antonio, you can't go near him."

"Yet." Antonio held up the books he was holding. "These are all of Arthur's favorite books. We just need to talk about things. Books can help us—we can talk about the restraining order after I read these and he sees—"

Francis frowned. "Antonio, you—"

Gilbert clapped his hands together, and the game faded to a commercial. "Toño, you know who's  _dying_  to see you? Feliciano."

Antonio perked. "He's not afraid of me anymore?"

Gilbert blew air through his lips. "He was never afraid of you, Toño. I told him I was going to get you, and he wants to have some stupid dinner party or some shit. To celebrate you being back."

Francis was still frowning.

"Do he and Arthur still work together at the high school?"

Gilbert shrugged, jumped up. "We're not talking about Arthur, we're talking about dinner Friday! Come on, he's honestly not afraid of you, he  _missed_  you!"

Antonio grinned. "Sure!"

* * *

"Francis. Francis, friend, wake up."

Francis rolled over and said something in French.

Antonio held up  _Lord of the Flies_. "Have you ever even read this shit?"

Francis squinted in the dark. "What time is it?" He sat up. "Antonio, it's too early for this."

"This is why Arthur and I have problems. He reads this—this negative things, and they mess with his head, Francis! Arthur always says his books he likes have the point, but it just seems depressing for no reason! What the  _fuck_ , Francis? Piggy did not need to die!"

"Antonio, calm—"

"And shit, Francis, the pages and pages of words! No one Arthur was always so tired for sex!"

"English, Antonio."

"It's  _awful_ , Francis! Shit! A lot of shit!"

"Antonio, it's four in the morning!"

"I'm going to burn this book. And I am going to tell Arthur it's shit."

Francis grabbed the book from Antonio's hands. "Go to  _bed_ , Antonio."

"Give me the—"

" _No_."

Antonio held up his hands, palms out. "All I'm saying is that no question Arthur was so—"

"Stop thinking about Arthur."

* * *

The smoke detector went off.

Shit.

Antonio grabbed one of the chairs from the dining room, and one of Francis' magazines. He could get the smoke away from the detectors, and then it would be fine and he could keep—

" _Antonio_!"

"Ah, hello, Francis! The smoke alarm went off, but I didn't know that putting water on fire could cause the smoke. I am fixing it, hold on."

"Are you  _burning_  the book, Antonio?!"

Antonio fanned harder. "Ah, yes. It was depressing, and they caused Arthur to… Ah, I think the fire department is here."

* * *

Last time Antonio thought about it, flowers were a thing you were supposed to bring to fancy events.

He rang the doorbell, and Gilbert practically threw it open. "Oh, you wore it!"

Antonio looked at the jersey. "Well, Francis picked up a nice dress shirt, but you said it was good luck, no?"

"I got big money on Spain." Gilbert crossed his fingers. "You're Spanish, wearing a fucking David Villa shirt—I'm hoping for  _at least_  a tie."

"Oh, Francis said you were betting on the games."

Gilbert nodded eagerly. "Yeah, well, with the baby and all, and Feliciano wanting to fucking decorate, and he's barely getting paid from the high school, it's…" Gilbert shrugged. "There's a lot of money on this game."

"What about the firm?"

Gilbert laughed, a little too loud. "It's not easy being an ambulance-chaser, Toño. But, fuck, come on in. Here, give me the fucking flowers, you didn't need to get those. Feliciano will love them. Feliciano, baby, Antonio's here!"

"Ah, Antonio, it's…" Feliciano froze when he saw Antonio. "Oh, you wore a jersey. Gilbert, did you tell him it's fancy?"

"I told you, the Villa jersey is good luck. Besides, he just got out of the hospital, he can wear a jersey if he wants to, baby."

"Even to a fancy dinner party, I guess," Feliciano said brightly. "Antonio, I don't know if you ever met him, but this is my older brother, Lovino."

Lovino was wearing a suit. A full suit, with a tie, shiny shoes. He was chewing on a cigarette, leaning against the couch, looking impossibly smooth and lean and lithe.

Antonio swallowed. "Hi, I'm Antonio."

Lovino nodded. "Yeah, I've heard about you. How's the restraining order?"

Feliciano laughed. "Lovino, I invited you because I thought we could all have a good time together. Please don't be annoying."

Lovino gritted his teeth. "Maybe it was a genuine question, brother."

Antonio nodded. "We're going to talk about the restraining order."

Lovino switched his attention back to Antonio. "Did you really beat that asshole Kirkland's ass?"

" _Lovino_!" Feliciano said, pitch high.

Antonio chuckled. "No, Feliciano, it's okay! It's a common mistake friends make. We both fought each other. I'm stronger than Arthur, but he… had help. From the man who broke up our marriage." Antonio perked. "But no divorce. We're working on things."

Lovino nodded. "My husband's dead."

Feliciano pursed his lips.

Antonio's breath caught in his throat. "Oh."

Lovino shrugged. "And I just got fired from my job, but fuck, at least you can beat your husband and still work on things. Can you tell me, who punched who first?"

"I tried to kill the math teacher. I mean, the math teacher was giving Arthur a blowjob, so I tried to kill him. And then Arthur punched me, and we started to fight."

Gilbert threw an arm around Antonio's shoulders. " _But_  we aren't talking about Arthur! We're going to have a fancy dinner and talk about good things!"

Feliciano nodded. "Everyone take a seat, and I'll grab the salad."

* * *

Antonio liked salad.

Lovino didn't seem to like salad, and he picked at it. Antonio couldn't stop looking at him, so he looked at his wedding ring instead.

Gilbert coughed. "Lovino speaks Spanish, Antonio."

Antonio was forced to look at Lovino again. "Oh, really? I was a substitute teacher for the high school, that's how I met Arthur, and I would help in the Spanish classes. I grew up in Spain, so I know Spanish."

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "Wow, a Spaniard who knows Spanish."

Feliciano's smile was tight. "Lovino grew up in south Italy, way down, he traveled all around."

"Wow, Feliciano, I couldn't have told him that, myself."

Feliciano stabbed a piece of lettuce.

Lovino took a log drink of wine. "What meds are you on?"

Antonio blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, fucker, you."

Antonio laughed. "Ah, well, I'm trying to go without the meds."

"That's dumb. I tried to do that, and I ended up sleeping with everyone in my office. Meds are good because they stop you from spiraling into episodes."

"Lovino," Feliciano said softly, "can we not talk about what happened at the office? Why don't we talk about your cooking? Antonio, did you know that Lovino cooks?"

"Oh—"

"Again, something I couldn't have told him, myself." Lovino drank the rest of his wine. "I'm going home. Antonio, walk me home."

"What?" Antonio looked between Gilbert and Lovino. "But we didn't even eat the—"

"Lovino, please, I made your favorite dish, don't leave!" Feliciano said, but his voice wasn't all in it. He sounded tired.

"No, because you're just going to avoid the issues. I'm really not into that right now, so you can just eat whatever you made me to make up for saying I'm ruining my life, and I'm going to go home."

"I didn't—"

"Antonio, are we leaving?"

Antonio stood. "See you later, Gilbert."

* * *

"This is me."

It was a house, but there was what looked like a barn behind it.

"I live in the addition out back. Are we going to fuck?"

Antonio blinked. "Hm?"

Lovino laughed. "Are you and me going to fuck?"

Antonio backed away and held up his hands. "I'm married."

"You punched your husband in the face. You tried to kill the math teacher."

"We're working on it. I'm married."

Lovino gritted his teeth. "Yeah, so the fuck am I."

"No, you can't work things out with him, he's dead."

Lovino's face crumpled, and he hid his expression in his hands.

"I…" Antonio didn't know what to say.

" _Fuck_  you," Lovino snarled, whipping his hands away from his face. "Seriously,  _fuck_  off."

And then he walked away.

Antonio was confused and aroused.


	2. Chapter 1.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I rewrote the previous chapter. Sort of.**

Last time Antonio thought about it, flowers were a thing you were supposed to bring to fancy events. He felt a little dumb standing there, a little too cold for what he was wearing, his flowers a little too brown.

He rang the doorbell, and Gilbert practically threw it open. "Oh, you wore it!"

Antonio looked at the jersey. "Well, Francis picked out a nice dress shirt, but you said it was good luck, no?"

"I got big money on Spain." Gilbert crossed his fingers, holding them up. "You're Spanish, wearing a fucking David Villa shirt—I'm hoping for  _at least_  a tie."

"Oh, Francis said you were betting on the games."

Gilbert nodded eagerly. "Yeah, well, with the baby and all, and Feliciano wanting to fucking decorate, and he's barely getting paid from the high school, it's…" Gilbert shrugged. "There's a lot of money on this game. I'm ferrying it to people. Stuff like that."

"What about the firm?"

Gilbert laughed, a little too loud. "It's not easy being an ambulance-chaser, Toño. But, fuck, come on in. Here, give me the fucking flowers, you didn't need to get those. Feliciano will love them. Feliciano, baby, Antonio's here!"

"Ah, Antonio, it's…" Feliciano froze when he saw Antonio. "Oh, you wore a jersey. Gilbert, did you tell him it's a nice-er party?"

"I told you, the Villa jersey is good luck. Besides, he just got out of the hospital, he can wear a jersey if he wants to, baby. And hell,  _look_  at him!" Gilbert grabbed Antonio by the shoulders and held him out. "How much weight did you lose?"

Antonio smiled. "It's good to see you again."

Feliciano nodded. "Yes, of course! It's fantastic to see you, too! I've never known someone who has gone to jail, you'll have to tell me all about it! It must have been really, really great!" He did not smile, hands on hips. " _And_  you brought flowers!"

Feliciano plucked the flowers from Antonio's hands.

"Ah, Feliciano, I wasn't at jail, I was at court-ordered mental stability and rehabilitation—"

"Right, but you would have gone to jail otherwise, so, same thing!" Feliciano bounced into the kitchen. The kitchen sink turned on.

Antonio turned to Gilbert, but Gilbert was already waving away Antonio's words.

"He's not afraid of you, Toño. Just a little intimidated, is all." Gilbert rubbed his eyes. "At least he's putting your flowers in water—he didn't throw them out, or… Burn them, I guess."

"Did you explain that I didn't go to jail? You were my lawyer—"

"Toño, we aren't talking about that tonight! We're talking about good things!" Gilbert wrapped an arm around Antonio and led him through the house. "You like this art, hanging here? It cost an arm and a leg, but Feliciano has  _assured_  me it just makes the dining room _pop_. What do you think?"

Antonio squinted. "It's just… a circle?"

Gilbert nodded. "That's what I fucking said!"

Feliciano walked into the living room from the kitchen. "Antonio, I'm not sure if you ever met him, but this is my older brother, Lovino."

Lovino was wearing a suit. A full suit, with a tie, shiny shoes. He was chewing on a cigarette, following Feliciano from the kitchen, looking impossibly smooth and lean and lithe. His hands were in his pockets, his hair styled.

Antonio swallowed. "Hi. I'm Antonio."

Lovino's eyes flicked over to Antonio. He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I've heard about you. How's the restraining order?"

Feliciano laughed. "Lovino, I invited you because I thought we could all have a good time together.  _Please_  don't be annoying."

Lovino didn't look at his brother, but Antonio saw him grit his teeth, his hands ball into fists in his pockets. "Maybe it was a genuine question, brother. So, tell me, how's it going? I've never had a restraining order."

Antonio cleared his throat. Cleared it again. "Well, you see, Arthur and I are going to talk about the restraining order. It's… complicated. The restraining order was put into place after Arthur and I got into a disagreement—"

Lovino snorted. "Dude, the whole town knows about what happened. You tried to kill him."

Feliciano turned sharply. "Lovino, I told you to—"

Antonio laughed. "No, I tried to kill the man who broke up our marriage. However, he escaped with a broken cheekbone, a neck fracture, a broken coccyx…"

Lovino nodded. "Yeah, sounds like he got away with a pretty gentle beating.

Feliciano walked in between them. "Hey, okay, why don't we eat dinner, hm? A nice salad?"

Lovino looked at the ceiling. "I hate salad."

Feliciano herded them to the dining room. "Yes, Lovino, but you hate everything! So, we're going to sit down, grit our teeth, and—"

Antonio took an awkward seat next to Gilbert. Gilbert's grin was slipping.

"Wow, what are you," Lovino snapped, crossing his legs and placing a napkin on his lap, "my mother? Serve the main course, no one fucking  _likes_  salad."

There was a long wail from upstairs.

Feliciano sighed. "The baby's up."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to."

Antonio stated to stand. "If I could see the baby—"

Feliciano's eyes snapped to Antonio. " _No_!"

Antonio sat back down.

Gilbert closed his eyes. "Feliciano—"

"I'm going to check on the baby," Feliciano said, voice shrill.

He practically ran out of the room, muttering in German as he went. The wailing stopped, and it was very quiet in the dining room. Antonio nodded, tapping his fingers against the side of his chair, humming.

Lovino examined his nails, and Antonio found himself absently observing him. His hair curled slightly, his nose was straight—he reminded Antonio of those white busts from Rome, or those statues from Italy in marble.

Lovino looked up at him, and Antonio's head whipped to Gilbert. He was now staring at Gilbert.

Gilbert massaged his eyes. "Lovino speaks Spanish, Antonio."

"Fuck off, Gilbert."

Antonio perked. "Oh, really? I was a substitute teacher for the high school, that's how I met Arthur, and I would help in the Spanish classes. I grew up in Spain, so I know Spanish."

Feliciano padded into the kitchen, looking considerably more cheery, a bounce to his step. "Thanks for serving the salad, Gilbert!"

He bounced into the kitchen. Gilbert shoved himself away from the table, followed Feliciano.

Lovino glared after his brother. "Fucker won't even let  _me_  see the kid."

"Arthur never wanted kids—he wanted cats and fish."

Lovino grunted. "I guess he also didn't want to be faithful."

Antonio shook his head. "Oh, no, see, that's a common mistake! Arthur and I had communication problems, and he acted out by sleeping around, to get my attention so we could work on our issues."

Lovino's head shot back in surprise. "'Sleeping around?'"

Antonio shrugged. "The man who broke up our marriage wasn't the first—just the one I happened to catch. I'm willing to work with Arthur on his problems."

"Is Arthur?"

Feliciano reappeared, holding a ridiculously large bowl of salad. Gilbert followed behind, holding a plate full of dumpling-looking things. They smelled delicious, and Antonio grabbed a few as Gilbert walked behind him.

"At least you gave us the option of another appetizer," Lovino muttered.

"Bad for your heart, Lovino. Remember Grandpa." Feliciano settled himself and proceeded to grab both a dumpling and a few spoonsful of salad.

"Antonio, did you know that Lovino can speak Spanish?"

Lovino snorted a laugh. "Did you guys plan out talking points? Antonio—what meds did they put you on?"

Antonio considered. "I don't remember exactly—the names are really long, but I know they fucked me up."

Lovino nodded. "You're probably talking about Lithium—or Seroquel or Abilify. Those fuck you up, make you tired. Ever try Trazodone?"

Antonio grinned. "Trapzone? Yeah—I was gone."

Lovino smiled, nodded. "Oh yeah, out like a fucking light. I screwed ten people without even realizing it."

" _Lovino_ ," Feliciano breathed. "Can we not talk about what happened in the office, please?"

Antonio looked between them. "The office?"

Lovino stood. "I'm going."

"Lovino, please—"

"No, I'm sick and tired of this conversation, of you and Gilbert—Antonio, I want you to take me home."

Antonio hopped up.

"Lovino, I made your favorite dishes, and—"

"Well, maybe you should make fucking scripts in your head and expect me to not talk about my last six months like they haven't been fucking  _hell_  for me." Lovino waved a hand at Feliciano. "Sorry for waking the baby."

Lovino thundered down the stairs, threw up the door. Antonio caught it, closed it gently, and when he turned around, Lovino was already halfway across the yard. Antonio jogged after him.

"He's always been like this," Lovino snarled.

"Who?"

Lovino shook his head, shoved his hands into his pockets. "Nothing, it doesn't matter. He's fucking meddling like he  _always_  does. So fucking sick of him and his fucking bullshit."

Antonio nodded. "He's probably trying to help—"

"Yeah, and I'm sure Arthur sleeping with all those people was just trying to help your guys' communication problems." Lovino laughed. "They're selfish, the two of them!"

"You don't know anything about me and Arthur's relationship—"

"Don't I?" Lovino shook his head.

Antonio grabbed Lovino's arm. "You  _don't_. I don't assume anything about you—"

Lovino ripped his arm away and faced Antonio. "Like Gilbert hasn't said anything. And I know you're living with that blabber mouth Francis—you're telling me he hasn't told you? I'm the manslut of the town now!"

Lovino stood in the middle of the street, breathing heavily, steam hissing past his teeth. His shoulders shook, and his face was red and blotchy. He looked like he was furious.

"My husband died," he said, voice hoarse.

Antonio frowned. "That doesn't mean you can go around judging Arthur—"

"Please, I've talked to that prick."

The world stopped turning. "You've talked to him."

Lovino had already kept walking.

Antonio followed, trying to grab Lovino's elbow, anything to hear more about this. "Hey, wait, when have you spoken to him? Lovino—"

Lovino glanced at him. "I'll tell you if you blow me."

Antonio's hand recoiled.

Lovino laughed. "Yeah, didn't fucking think so. Fuck off. Go home. Leave me alone."

"I'm  _married_ , Lovino!"

Lovino whirled to face him. "So is Arthur! So am  _I_!" he shouted, slapped his hand to his chest.

Antonio shook his head. "No, he's dead, no?"

A storm erupted over Lovino's face. " _Fuck_  you!" He pushed Antonio. "I'm going home. Thanks for fucking walking with me."

Antonio blinked. "Uh, you're welcome?"

Lovino nodded, turned, and walked away, dress shoes clacking on the asphalt.

Antonio was confused and aroused.


End file.
